


wanderer (or, what separates us from insects)

by annabelolee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends to Strangers, Christmas, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Train Rides, Winter, a falling out?? it's been a while, friendship?relationship?uR PICK, it do be like that, made up towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabelolee/pseuds/annabelolee
Summary: 'Childhood friends to strangers' AU where Kuroo and Kenma have a falling-out after high school and only see each other once a year for Christmas, a time when they celebrate together with their families. This Christmas in particular, Kuroo doesn't show up, and Kenma sets out to find him.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020





	wanderer (or, what separates us from insects)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [appllelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/appllelle/gifts).



> For [Anqi!](https://twitter.com/appllelle) (@appllelle on Twitter!)  
> I'm your Secret Santa for the Kuroken Christmas Exchange this year, and I really hope you like this strung-together piece of mass typing that I created from my 2 am overthinking extravaganzas! Let me know what you think - have the merriest of Christmases and the best hot chocolate!

_How many years has it been?_

He’s staring awkwardly at the dirty cement as he walks up the familiar path to Kuroo’s house. He’s not surprised at how nasty the ground looks, littered with pigeon excrete and black pieces of gum left by ignorant children. He sees an empty can on the ground, and before anyone can lecture him about being a responsible adult he kicks it pointlessly to the side of the curb.

_When was the last time I came here?_

Kids are laughing in the park that’s just beyond the bend of the street. He knows it’s there because he and Kuroo have grown up there, amidst the rusty swing set that smelled like copper every time it rained and the maze that was so short Kuroo would always just climb over the bushes. Just beyond the rusty blue fence would be a flower garden that grew azaleas and hibiscus, and he wouldn’t expect to see the regular bees buzzing around the flowers as the snow falls steadily into the bushes this time of the year.

_What am I even going to say?_

He doesn’t have the time to dwell more upon it. His feet come to a stop right outside a small, two-story white house with familiar grey drapes. The potted plants that usually reside on the second-floor balcony have been brought inside to avoid the chilly December air, and the porch holds a small mound of snow. He must be the first to arrive.

He pulls his headphones down to rest on his neck and exhales. Here goes.

Dragging his suitcase up the stairs, he grunts when he feels a stabbing pain in his waist. He’s clearly out of shape. Without Kuroo around, he hasn’t found the motivation to work out, and his weak frame is anything but strong. He momentarily wonders what Kuroo’s mother is going to say.

To claim that he’s composed and calm would be a lie. His heart is beating a thousand miles a minute, thumping so hard it vibrates against his back and in the hollow of his throat. He’s thinking of a possible escape route, tracing imaginary steps to leap out of the house if things go wrong. He doesn’t want to be here.

He stares at the friendly Christmas wreath hanging on the door. He raises his hand and knocks. He takes a deep breath.

A gentle click. A gust of warm air. A face peers out from the crack.

“Ah, Kenma!”

His chests hurts. Kenma forces a smile. “Hello-“

“I didn’t expect you to arrive so early!” Kuroo’s mother interrupts in a frenzy, pulling the door wide open as she takes Kenma’s luggage from his side, fussing as she dusts the snow off Kenma’s scarf. “None of the decorations are up yet! I thought your flight would be arriving tomorrow until your mother sent me a text this morning that you were off earlier this year, so she just booked the one a day prior- ah, we’ve barely prepared the guest room! That’s okay, you can stay in Kuroo’s room for now!”

“Oh, thank-“

“No, no, I should be thanking _you!_ I know, I know, I know, this is so _weird_ , spending Christmas at this house after four years without seeing each other! How are you? How have you been?”

She fusses around him a bit more as he toes his shoes off by the door, removing his coat and scarf and letting the warm air of the house thaw his numb nose and trembling fingers. He takes a good look around the house, almost guilty at the warm sentiment he feels when he recognises the setup that he’d memorised after years of playdates and study sessions in this house exactly. After Kuroo’s mother had dusted off his suitcase, she gestures him upstairs to the back of the hallway, where Kuroo’s room is and has always been.

It’s eerily quiet. Kuroo’s not at the door. Expected. They haven’t spoken in a good four years, haven’t _seen_ each other in four years, anyway, and he’d spent those last four years coming up with excuses to avoid the traditional Christmas dinner. It’s pretty obvious Kuroo wouldn’t want to see him right now.

He thinks about the last conversation they’d had, and he fights the urge to run.

He sets his bag down beside the table, only to notice the small sheen of dust that covered the surface. Frowning, he drags his finger along the wood, staring at the way the dust particles kick up into the air, shining gold under the afternoon sunlight. His nose itched and he shuts his eyes, preparing himself before launching out a loud sneeze. Blinking drowsily, he noticed the sheen of dust on the back of the wooden chair, the bed frame, the windowsill, _everything_ , almost as if the room’s been unkempt, almost as if-

“Kenma?”

He turns towards the door, where Kuroo’s mother stood, eyes wide with worry. “Ah, I must’ve forgotten to clean this room, too! I’m so sorry, I’m so scatterbrained, I know about your dust allergy-“

“Has Kuroo been around?” Kenma interrupts.

Kuroo’s mother froze, her mouth open in a small ‘O’, her fingers coming together to pick on the dead skin by her fingernails. She’s suddenly quiet, nervous energy and a scared expression, and Kenma immediately feels guilty for asking. He’s about to speak again when she mutters a response so quietly Kenma barely hears it.

“Ah, excuse me? I didn’t hear…”

“No. No, he hasn’t. I haven’t seen him in a while.” She says, the picking becoming more frantic. She suddenly looks small, her frame barely taking up space in the doorway, and she cowers in on herself, desperation fleeting across her features. “He hasn’t contacted me since February. I don’t know where he is. I sent him texts but they were left unanswered. I was hoping that hosting the Christmas gathering here this year would prompt him to come back, but he hasn’t responded to anything I’ve sent him. Kenma, dear, I don’t know what to do.”

_Kenma, dear, I don’t know what to do-_

“It’s okay,” Kenma immediately says, even though that’s really the last thing either of them is thinking about. In truth, his blood’s run cold and there’s a looming sense of dread that’s clinging to his shoulders, and he’s just as afraid, if not more, as Kuroo’s mother. His heart is slamming against his chest for a whole new reason now, and he’s no longer worried about the argument they’d had four years ago, or the wide, wide distance that stretched between the two of them that only grew with time. “It’s okay. We have a few days. I’ll go find him.”

“I’ve tried,” Kuroo’s mother said anxiously. “I’ve tried to find him. His friends don’t know where he is.”

“It’s okay.” Kenma repeats, walking towards her and gripping her shoulders reassuringly. The motion itself scares him as he’s very well aware that this isn’t something he’d normally do but he’s scared, he’s _terrified_ , and so is she. “Don’t worry too much about him, okay? He’s reckless, we both know that, so I’m not concerned about him. Just take a breather, don’t worry about him, and I’ll go find him.”

He doesn’t wait for her to answer as he scampers down the stairs and grabs his coat and scarf. He knows she’s on her knees, sobbing, anyway.

The first place he stops by is the campus. Unlike him, Kuroo’s decided to attend the state university, and the large and unfamiliar campus sent a tremor down his spine. He’s never been good with people, never been a very social butterfly, either, and the prospect of having to go up to strangers and ask for Kuroo’s whereabouts is frightening to him. It doesn’t help that he’d deleted Kuroo’s number a while ago, and the last time his mother called him, the number hadn’t been in use.

_God, I don’t want to be here._

But, as he sees the relaxed faces of students who’d just finished their exams and were preparing to go home for the holidays, he knew that being selfish was the last thing anyone needed.

He considers the fact that, since Kuroo graduated two years ago, probably no one would know him, much less know where he is. But he can’t afford to generalise, and he hopes for the best as he dashes across the campus.

He stops by the science building, walking up to several students who were slowly filtering out of the lobby. They all shook their head when Kenma showed them photos and frowned when the name was brought up, leaving Kenma empty-handed and confused. Desperately, he rakes the area with his gaze to find someone, _anyone_ , that he hasn’t spoken to yet, before his eyes landed on a group of students who lingered by the door. Their smiles of greeting quickly drop into confused expressions when Kenma shows them his phone.

“Do you guys know him? His name’s Kuroo, he graduated two years ago, he studied sports science.” Kenma says, zooming in to the photo on his screen. He winces at the ugly amount of pixels that show up when enlarged but, hey, he’s got no choice. All the other pictures he has of Kuroo are from years ago, and his profile picture is truly the best bet as of right now.

“I don’t know a Kuroo,” one of the students says. “Are you sure he goes here?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Kenma nodded. “He enrolled here in his freshmen year.”

“You just said he graduated,” another one of the students added. “I don’t think most of us recognise him.”

“I know, I know, but I’m hoping?”

“I’ve heard of him, though,” a third student adds, immediately grabbing Kenma’s attention. “Black hair, amber eyes, right?”

“Yeah,” Kenma nods. “Tall?”

“Yup.” The student responds, pursing his lips as he thinks. “He liked visiting the coffee shop across the street. The orange one over there. I haven’t seen him around for a while, but maybe someone there would know.”

“Thanks!” Kenma says over his shoulder, already scampering away, his feet taking him across the street to the small orange coffee shop on the corner.

It’s empty inside, Kenma notices when he casts a swift glance around, and he’s about to turn back around when the barista speaks.

“Hello, welcome to-“ it starts before the voice is cut off by a loud inhale. Kenma freezes. “EH? _KENMA_?”

He can’t believe his eyes. He almost starts laughing.

Yaku Morisuke was the last person he’d expect to work at a coffee shop and possibly the last one he’d expected to see _anywhere mundane_ , but there he is, standing behind the counter wearing a ridiculous orange apron that swallows up his figure entirely and an orange cap that covers a good portion of his face. Even _he’s_ cringing at his own appearance. “Oi, don’t look at me like that! This is only a part-time job- wait, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for Kuroo,” Kenma says, ignoring the way Yaku has to physically lift the cap off his head to see him better. “I heard he hasn’t been around recently. Do you know where he is?”

“Kuroo?” Yaku frowns. “I haven’t seen him since February, actually. He was going somewhere.”

That caught his attention, and Kenma turns around, walking over to the counter immediately. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, he had a whole suitcase and everything. Looked like he wasn’t going to be back for a bit.” Yaku shrugs. “Where was he headed, actually? South… South Montery? South something, it said on his ticket.”

“His ticket,” Kenma mutters. “South Montery? Isn’t that really far?”

“Look, I’m not sure, I only managed to grab a peek.” Yaku lifts his hands and shrugs. “You’ll have to message him… that reminds me, shouldn’t you know this information better than me?”

“Me?” Kenma repeats incredulously. “Why would I know?”

“You’re his best friend and all,” Yaku leans against the back wall, crossing his arms. “I’m pretty sure that if Kuroo were to actually retire thirty-eight years early, he’d tell you first.”

Ah, so he didn’t know. For some strange reason, Kenma expects Kuroo to have told more people about the falling out, but the lack of messages and lack of sympathy from anyone suddenly made sense. It was because Kuroo didn’t say a thing. A hollow pang sounds in Kenma’s chest and he turns back to his phone, deciding not to say anything as well, only humming in response. He pulls out his phone and checks the local times for trains headed to South Montery, frowning when he sees that the next one is in three hours.

“Why are you looking for him, anyway?” Yaku asks, pulling Kenma’s attention towards him. “I mean, he was holding a lot of stuff. I don’t think he’s planning to come back anytime soon.”

“His mom wants him home,” Kenma says simply.

“Wouldn’t he stop by anyway for the holidays?”

“She hasn’t spoken to him since February, either.”

“Huh. Strange…” Yaku uncrosses his arms and walks back to the front of the counter. “I think you should let her know that Kuroo’s not exactly close to _home_ , and for you to head all the way over there just to drag some stubborn mule back here is pointless. It’s not like he wants to come back, or he would’ve done so already.”

“Right, but it’s not my choice,” Kenma bites back, even though it definitely is. He didn’t have to look for Kuroo. He didn’t even have to do anything. He’s not obligated to. No one expects him to.

But he thinks of the crumpled expression on Kuroo’s mother’s face, the many pictures of him in their living room, and the way Yaku scrunched his nose when he asked about Kuroo, and he knows that he’ll probably never forgive himself if he can’t bring Kuroo home.

“Did he tell you why he left?” Kenma asks.

Yaku snorts. “I mean, it wasn’t exactly an explanation. More like some sort of poem.”

“What did he say?”

“Something about shouting words of love while he jumped in the high seas. It was ridiculous. I don’t want to remember it.”

“Dazai,” Kenma says instinctively, not even thinking twice. He freezes, eyes wide as he regards Yaku, who’d cocked his head and asked, “Who?”

“Osamu Dazai. His favourite author.” Kenma blinks rapidly, clenching the strap of his bag. “The quote. It’s from _A New Hamlet_ _._ I… How did I remember that? I haven’t read it in years.”

“You did say it was his favourite book,” Yaku adds unhelpfully.

“I’m… what?”

“Hey, when are you leaving, actually? Do you want to catch up for a bit?”

They spend a good, long time together, filling up the empty three hours before Kenma’s train. Kenma learns that Yaku plays professional volleyball now, and the barista duty is truly just a part-time job. Yaku learns about the falling out, and Kenma soon experiences an onslaught of pats on the back and promises to ‘bash Kuroo’s head into the wall’. When he finally makes it to the train station, after Yaku waved back at him excitedly from the window of the bus, he’s surprised to find it empty.

The lack of people flooding the entrance leaves a tranquil, eery noise in the atmosphere, and Kenma has to shake the uncertainty out of his head before approaching the ticket counter, all in fast movements so he can’t change his mind. He buys the ticket, makes his way inside, and sits down in the waiting lobby, watching as the handful of other passengers made their slow trudge to different seats in the room. The large clock hanging on the wall moves its hand to strike six, a low bell tolling in response. The bright white light hurts his eyes. The announcement for his train sounds. Someone coughs.

He stands up, and he tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat.

Making his way through the waiting lobby, a novel on the front desk of the bookshop catches his eye. He takes a second glance. He blinks.

 _A New Hamlet_. Osamu Dazai.

The world is playing jokes on him.

He buys it.

Up on the platform, the fading light from the sunset casts a soft orange to the coming blue. The clouds are rolling in, large dark hues that colour the sky monochromatic, and he tears his gaze away to slowly makes his way to the wooden benches clustered in the middle. Several other strangers seem to have the same idea, all huddled together on the long bench. One man raises a hand in greeting.

“A cold evening, isn’t it?” He asks.

Kenma nods, burying his nose into his scarf. “Didn’t think it’d be so cold so soon.”

“Yeah, me neither.” The man nods. “It’s a good thing I reminded my daughter to heat up the sleeping pad. I can’t wait to sleep somewhere warm tonight.”

Kenma only hums in response, sitting down beside him as the man pulls out his phone. “Currently 6:23. I think we’ll arrive at 8:30?”

Kenma freezes. “8:30? That late?”

“The snow’s pretty heavy tonight. I’m expecting a two hour trip, maybe a bit more.”

“Oh…”

He mentally slaps his head. How did it slip his mind to check the weather report, let alone how long the trip was? He’s never going to make it back at a reasonable time. He’d have to stay the night, have to find somewhere to stay to begin with, and then try to locate somewhere close to the station yet reasonable enough where he wouldn’t have to walk miles just to find someone who knows Kuroo, and he cringes at the prospect of having to wear the same outfit. _Gross._

“What are you headed to South Montery for, anyway?” The stranger asks, catching his attention. “Visiting family?”

He stills. “Something like that.”

“It’s a beautiful place in the winter, isn’t it?” The man sighs. “A good place to spend the winter holidays.”

“I’ve actually never been.”

The man laughs. “Is that so? Well, you’ll love it. Send your family my best regards.”

He stands up and makes his way down to the front of the platform, where Kenma can hear the train pulling in. A soft gold beam appears at the corner of his eye, illuminating the snow falling onto the train tracks. The platform reflects the train’s yellow glow, basking the cold atmosphere in a warm light.

He thinks of Kuroo in South Montery, and he stands up without second thought.

The train’s slow.

He’s sitting on the second level, alone in a four-seat clump, a small lamp on the table between the chairs, _A New Hamlet_ resting untouched on the chair beside him. The sky’s completely dark now, the only light around him being the interior of the train car and the reflection that the lamps leave on the passing snow outside. It’s a little past 8 and, judging by the speed of how quick they were going and how far of a journey they still had left, he wouldn’t arrive until sometime past 9. The compartment is warm, and when he pulls out his phone to check the weather, he frowns when he sees that the temperature has dropped a couple of degrees since early that evening.

Great.

He’s starting to regret coming here as time ticks by meaninglessly. It’s not even as if he’ll change anything big by bringing Kuroo home. Kuroo could just pack up and leave the next day. And how’s he even going to _find_ him anyway? It’s impossible, Kenma declares, scowling as he casts his eyes around the interior of the train car. Someone’s luggage dangles in the overhead racks, their tag swinging as the train trudges along. He reads their name, their address, and then a short note scribbled in another’s handwriting.

_See you soon. Love you :)_

He frowns, the words leaving an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that he’s _lonely_. He doesn’t mind being lonely. He’s never minded being alone.

It’s just… different. He feels wrong. Three days before Christmas and he’s sitting here, alone, trying to find someone he probably won’t recognise.

He sighs. He opens the book.

Where did they go wrong?

The train doesn’t make it to South Montery until 9:42, and by then Kenma has already given up all hope of finding Kuroo on the day. He decides to book it to a hotel as fast as he can, taking his time to rest and vent out his frustration and begin the long, painful search tomorrow.

He’d messaged Bokuto already on the train, asking if he knew about Kuroo’s new address, but he was left with a ‘nope!’ And sad emoticons. Akaashi and Tsukishima and Kai didn’t know any more than Yaku, and he’s frustrated that he’s come up empty-handed. Kuroo didn’t want to be found. He made that painfully clear.

He steps out of the train station, the cold air immediately hitting his face. He tucks his nose into his scarf, wincing at the icy cold that bites at his cheeks, but he can’t deny the man’s words: the town is strangely, breathtakingly beautiful. Above him and between the streets, gold lights hang in shapes of snowflakes and angels. Fairy lights wrap around tree trunks, the leaves shining white and yellow against the red taillights of the passing cars outside. ‘ _I’ll Be Home for Christmas’_ plays from speakers somewhere, and Kenma catches a couple walking by, the girl singing enthusiastically to the guy who shakes his head and laughs.

He swallows the lump in his throat and turns around, looking for a cab to bring him to a hotel nearby. Someone with a navy blue coat walks past in front of him, their head ducked down as they fiddle with the keys in their hand.

He freezes.

The slope of that neck. The messy black hair. The pull of his mouth as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, a habit he’s never been able to break.

_He doesn’t want to be found. He doesn’t want to be found._

But here he is.

He never thought he’d be able to find him again.

Sensing eyes on him, the tall man with the navy coat looks up. Amber eyes meet. The winter chill suddenly feels colder than it was before. His eyes widen, and his breath leaves him in a shaky puff of air.

Kenma’s heart slams against the zipper of his coat. The man in front of him raises his hand in a wave.

“Kozume,” Kuroo says, breathless.

“You’re… what are you doing here?”

“Uh…”

“At almost ten in the evening, too! Did you just get off the train?”

“Yeah. I took the last train from Hampton.”

“Ah… are you headed somewhere?”

“Yeah, um…”

“I can just give you a lift. My car’s nearby. Where are you going?”

“I’m actually… I’m here for you.”

“…for me?”

“You have to come home. Your mother… she wants to see you.”

“Do you have some time?”

“Why?”

“Come back with me for a bit.”

The apartment is well-kept. That’s the first thing Kenma thinks when Kuroo opens the door.

The furniture is arranged in neat, tidy clusters, framing the small apartment and giving it a cozy feel. Nothing looks particularly out of place, save for the many cups that reside on the kitchen counter, and the sheer _tidiness_ of the place leaves Kenma feeling more hollow than relieved.

_Ah, so he’s settled down._

It’s strange, he thinks as he toes off his shoes by the door while Kuroo hums to himself, draping his coat on the back of a chair. For some reason, he’d expected the apartment to be messy, cluttered, disastrously unorganised, but the lack of chaos in the confined space just seemed to show how well Kuroo’s been doing by himself, settled down in some foreign town with a new job and a clean slate.

It scares him that even though he knows Kuroo’s happier here, that he’d much rather stay here, he doesn’t believe Kuroo fits in. It’s too neat. Everything is too _clean_. Some sadistic part of him thinks that he knows Kuroo better than Kuroo knows himself, maybe due to a childhood and over ten years of being around him every day, and he thinks that he’s making the better decision to take him back. His own selfishness scares him, and he bites back a scowl, speaking instead.

“Kuroo, pack up your things. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

There’s no response. Kenma thinks that Kuroo probably hasn’t heard him and he opens his mouth to speak again, until Kuroo interrupts-

“Stay with me for a bit.”

Kenma blinks. “Excuse me?”

Feet come padding back to the door, and once the socks came into view, Kenma forces his eyes to look up.

“Stay with me for a bit.”

Kenma stares at him, at the tired rings around his eyes and his timid posture and his messy hair, all aspects of him that looked so strange and _not right_ , _not Kuroo_ , and Kenma thinks he might just go insane if he stared at him for any longer.

_You were right, weren’t you? He’s not doing well. You know him better. You-_

It’s not his responsibility.

But how has he not noticed earlier? He didn’t notice how _exhausted_ Kuroo is, and maybe it’s all because of his refusal to meet the other’s eye. He tears his gaze away to pick at the peeling leather of his bag.

“No. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Kenma.”

“The train leaves in a few hours. Pack up and let’s go once it’s light.”

“Kenma.”

“I’m not staying-“

“Kenma, please.”

It’s uttered with a voice so drained that Kenma freezes. He dares not look up, dares not see those eyes again, and Kuroo takes it as an encouragement to continue, because he deals the final blow and Kenma wants to sit down and cry.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of returning. Everyone just leaves. They’re going to leave me, once they see who’s back. No one wants me back. I haven’t spoken to anyone from high school in years, save for Yaku. I’m really scared.”

“I…”

“Don’t make me do this.”

“Why?” Kenma looks back up at him, and suddenly they’re nineteen again, standing in Kuroo’s dorm room, Kuroo sitting cross-legged on the floor and Kenma standing by the door, their shoulders hunched in anger and confusion. Suddenly, they’re replaying that last conversation again, and Kenma begins to panic because it’s too _soon, he wasn’t supposed to think of_ this _, not right now, not ever-_

“Why do you run?”

It slips out of him so quickly that he freezes at his own accusation.

And Kuroo looks terrified. He twists his fingers together and scratches at his cuticles, his nails, and he no longer looks like he’s twenty-four- no, he looks small, like his mother when she stood by Kuroo’s doorway, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “What?”

“Why do you run, Kuroo?” Something flames up in Kenma and suddenly he’s no longer tentative, he’s not shy around this man that he’s known since they were kids, and he’s _frustrated,_ because he had to come here during the late hours of the evening to _find him, just like he’d always done-_

“Why do I always have to chase after you, Kuroo?”

He doesn’t speak for a long time. The silence is deafening, and the ticking of the clock is starting to become irritating. Just when Kenma’s about to talk again, Kuroo clears his throat.

“Do you know what separates us from insects?”

Kenma scoffs. “Now is not the time-“

“You know, I want to be an insect,” Kuroo says slowly, his voice gradually picking up speed and volume as he rambles on. “Living life with no actual purpose other than eating and sleeping and moving around. No rules to follow, no norms to be constrained to. Wouldn’t that be so easy? It would, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t have to worry about the domesticity, the _rules_ , I wouldn’t have anyone I needed to particularly please-”

“Kuroo, shut-“

“Do you know what separates us from insects, Kenma?”

Kenma stares.

“Nothing. We’re no different. We eat and sleep and move around. Sure, we have more of a motivation to do these things, but essentially we are no different from the bug we killed just this morning.”

“Kuroo, you’re not making any sense.”

“No, no, I’m not,” he agrees. “I don’t want to argue anymore. I don’t really have anything, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch. You can use the bathroom first. Do you need anything?”

“I-“

“I’m sorry.”

The words die on Kenma’s lips, and when he meets Kuroo’s eyes again, there’s nothing but genuine regret. Years of unspoken words hide behind his expression, and Kenma finds that, though Kuroo’s still running, though he probably will never stop, Kenma’s the one with the passing of time in his hands, and, this time, he waits for Kuroo.

Kuroo laughs softly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the last four years. It wasn’t until I saw you today that I realised how much I’d left behind. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened between us. I’m sorry. I never got to tell you because I was scared.”

“Kuroo-“

“Hey, wait, before we sleep, would you like to read this book with me? It’s called _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ …”

“I’m not coming back.”

It’s uttered into the air late that evening as Kenma trudges into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea. The analogue clock by the coffee table ticks at half-past two, and Kenma looks up from beside his own cup of tea in the kitchen to see Kuroo already staring back at him from his spot on the couch, legs crossed and hands intertwined tightly together. He’s picking at his dead skin, a habit he picked up from his mom, and the way he cowers in on himself when he’s scared is the exact same as the woman Kenma last saw by the doorway.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” Kuroo says. “They don’t want me back.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“I was… I wasn’t very nice. To my mom. My dad. My friends. Anyone. I didn’t give anyone an explanation.”

“Doesn’t mean you can hide, you know. Just come back and we can take it one step at a time.”

Kuroo stands up and walks over to the kitchen, taking the kettle from Kenma’s hands and placing it on the stove. He sighs,watching the slow boil of the water, hands shoved into his pockets.

“What do I even say to them, Kenma?”

“An apology is a great way to start, don’t you think? Why don’t you start with me?”

Kuroo snorts, turning around and whacking Kenma’s forehead lightly with the wooden spoon on the counter. “I’m sorry. There. I said it again. Are you happy now?”

“You have to say it to everyone.” Kenma bats his hand away.

For a long time, Kuroo doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the kettle, waiting for the water to boil, tapping the wooden spoon against his leg in a beat. Finally, he speaks, after Kenma has relocated to the couch and was drawing a blanket over himself.

“I mean,” Kuroo says, looking up from the kettle to catch Kenma’s eye from across the apartment. “ _To have done a rather horrible thing, and think that one can be forgiven with just the phrase ‘I’m sorry’, - one would have to be a selfish person with no consciousness of their own wrongdoing… am I right?_ ”

“So don’t just say you’re sorry.” Kenma frowns. “Come back. We’re all waiting for you.”

“Insects.”

“ _A New Hamlet_.”

Kuroo grins. “Very good. I saw it in your bag earlier.”

He turns back to the kettle, staring wordlessly at the steam rising from the metal spout. Kenma stares at his back, at the slope of his neck, at the bend of his shoulders, and wonders when ‘they’ has become ‘we’.

They don’t leave the next day. Kenma sleeps until eleven, and when he wakes up, Kuroo’s sitting at the table, typing away on his laptop. He clears his throat to greet him. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“You should’ve woken me up.” Kenma scowls. “We missed the first train.”

“You should hang out with me today, then,” Kuroo says, shutting his computer and leaning forward. “We have some catching up to do.”

 _He probably just didn’t wake me up because he had this plan,_ Kenma thinks bitterly _._

But Kenma doesn’t protest, because Kenma finds that he doesn’t know how to say no.

The Christmas decorations are up, and Bing Crosby plays on the speakers in the square. Kenma rolls his eyes when Kuroo starts to sing along loudly, shameless as he always is, drawing attention from the strangers on the street, and he finds himself cringing but smiling with fond adoration when Kuroo stops to take pictures of the decorations like the tourist he isn’t. Kuroo takes him to different places - the mall, the park, the ice rink, the movies, the fountain hidden behind the buildings In the old town, the Christmas market with the wooden stalls and the smell of fruit wine in the air, and Kenma’s heart aches with the affection, the uncontrollable, clenching tightness in his chest when he sees the smile on Kuroo’s face that only seems to grow brighter. They talk as if no time had passed, tug at each other’s arms when they see something they want to check out, tap each other’s shoulders when trying to get the other’s attention, and even though the passing emptiness of four quiet years lingers over their heads like a raincloud waiting to fall, Kenma finds that he’s not afraid of confrontation anymore. It’s the slow warmth that spreads from his chest and leaves him breathless when Kuroo throws an arm around his shoulder, guiding them to the canal that runs through the town and the small bridge at the end where the canal meets the sea, and it’s the burning in his stomach when Kuroo takes a photo of them there, at the place called the ‘Lover’s Bridge’. 

What is it?

When Kuroo takes him on a hike up a small hill to get a better view of onto, Kenma discovers what it is.

When Kuroo drags him to a coffee shop and they order hot chocolates with matching snowmen art, Kuroo purposefully dropping a marshmallow on the face of Kenma’s snowman to make its face cave in, Kenma discovers what it is.

When Kuroo laughs at a joke Kenma told him, when he leans forward and clutches his stomach and his breath comes out in swirls of air, Kenma discovers what it is.

 _Love_.

It’s funny how enduring it is.

That night, they sit together on the couch, watching an old movie play on the TV. Neither of them is really paying attention, and when Kuroo asks the question, Kenma’s fully prepared to answer it.

“What went wrong?”

Kenma fixes his eye on the characters on the screen. “I was tired of having to patch up for your recklessness. When your classmates came to find me for the third time that week, asking me about your whereabouts, I didn’t want to have to answer them anymore.”

“I was getting better.”

“You were. I didn’t realise it at the time.”

“I think… I was really selfish before. I never really asked you how you felt. I just expected you to fix my mistakes, like you did every time.”

“I shouldn’t have encouraged it. It’s on me, too.”

“I tried… I tried to find you afterwards. Believe me. But I was too scared.”

“I know. I was angry- and I still am- because I think we could’ve fixed it had we only been mature enough to listen to each other.”

“I’m still scared.”

“I know.”

“I was overwhelmed. I didn’t really want to be there anymore, and I guess every day after that just felt like a chore. I didn’t want to be around everyone I knew, and I’m sorry for not telling you every Christmas.”

“We barely spoke. I didn’t expect you to.”

“I barely spoke to anyone after, actually, save for Yaku.”

“I think you owe everyone an apology.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“Yaku’s worried about you.”

“I’d think so.”

“Are you coming back?”

Kuroo doesn’t respond for a long time. His hands tighten on the throw pillow laying across his lap. He swallows.

“I shouldn’t hide anymore, should I?”

Kenma nods. “New courage.”

“ _A New Hamlet_ _._ ”

“Yeah.”

Kenma wakes to the sound of a zipper closing. Someone moves around in the living room, the morning light pouring into the tiny space as the smell of coffee wafts in the air. The Christmas music from the street drifts in through the glass, and Kenma blinks the sleep from his eyes before catching the figure crouched beside a plant pot.

“Kuroo.”

The other turns, eyes wide before relaxing into a lazy grin. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Do you not have eyes?”

Kenma clicks his tongue before glancing at the clock. “6:40. Why are you up so early?”

“Well,” Kuroo stands up, dusting his hands on his jeans. “You told me the train leaves at 8.”

The train. The train to where?

Kenma freezes. Kuroo laughs.

“It’s new courage. I don’t know how I wasn’t able to find it earlier.”

The train home is not so lonely.

No longer is he staring out of the window meaninglessly, _A New Hamlet_ untouched beside him. Now, the train compartment is filled with people going home for Christmas, the car filled with a chorus of voices and hidden excitement. Now, the chair next to him holds a warm body, the tall lanky stretch of a man who’s talking excitedly about the book Kenma bought in the train station bookstore. Kenma’s staring at the other man instead, a small smile on his lips as Kuroo reads at lightning speed, a pencil in his hand as he annotates, a leg crossed with his feet pointing at Kenma where he’ll nudge him once he finds a passage worth speaking about. Kenma finds it strange how, after four years of both of them hiding from the other, a simple request would’ve been enough to bring them back together. He feels like an idiot for running. He feels like a hypocrite.

Kuroo's not staying permanently. He's only back for Christmas, maybe a few days after, and he's going to return to South Montery after the short break is over. But as he steals glances at the man in the navy coat next to him, one whose face and actions and voice he’d recognise anywhere, he finds that he doesn’t regret taking up the offer to find him, doesn't mind that Kuroo won't really be so conveniently in reach, and he doesn’t mind the cold of December anymore.

“ _Oh, I too am a wretched man. Nobody in this world wants to be my friend._ ” Kuroo reads, looking up from the book. Kuroo grins as he reaches out and dusts something off the crown of Kenma’s head. “ _And here I am proud to have caught one single fool like you._ ”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Give yourself more credit.”

“ _And_ _I think that, in life, you must have a final person who praises you,_ ” Kuroo says, shutting the book with a snap. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re amazing,” Kenma says.

A furious red blossoms across Kuroo’s cheeks. “I don’t want to be a selfish man.”

“I think you’re genuine.”

“You know, I don’t think facing my fears is very grand. I’m not very great at it.”

“I think you deserve everything that’s good, Kuroo.”

“ _I think that, in life, you must have a final person who praises you,_ ” Kuroo repeats.

“I think I love you.”

Kuroo freezes, daring to steal a glance at Kenma from the corner of his eye. Kenma’s heart is slamming in his chest again and his face is breathlessly and uncomfortably warm, a drastic contrast from the falling snow and the chilly wind outside the train window. It surprises him just as much as it’d surprised Kuroo but it’s out there now, and he can’t take it back and neither does he really want to, because how could he not? He’s known Kuroo for all of his life. A break, no matter how long, will ever be able to change that.

Outside, on the street, a neighbourhood plays Christmas music and Kenma can see figures dancing to the beat from behind the drawn curtains. Christmas lights flash in time with the tapping of Kuroo’s fingers against his knee, and when he turns his gaze back to Kuroo, he finds nothing but a soft, soft smile waiting.

“Kenma?”

It waits. It doesn’t run.

“What?”

“Say it again.”

“No.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Kenma.”

“What?”

“What separates us from insects?”

Kenma stares. Kuroo grins. The snow falls outside their window, the music plays, and the dancers keep dancing. The man in front of him extends an arm and clutches Kenma’s fingers, wearing a wide, wide smile.

Kenma’s glad he brought him home.

“Love, Kenma. That’s what separates us from insects.”

**Author's Note:**

> Woww, if you made it here - thanks for reading this!! It's very messy and I APOLOGIZE, I TRULY DO, but I'm glad to have been able to share a bit of Kuroken's (very self indulgent) story with you! I've never actually read 'A New Hamlet', but Dazai is one of my favourite authors, and I just HAVE to leave little pieces of my life wherever I go.  
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and I will treasure every bit of advice you give me for the rest of my life. :D  
> Thank you again, and have a wonderful Christmas!


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